Don't Look Back
by Kairosclerosis
Summary: / She goes back to the river where it all began. / It had taken Chihiro years to admit what she had gone through; years that she spent with thousands of questions bubbling and broiling beneath her tawny skin, and when she finally did decide to speak out she was met with a thousand more inquiries.
1. Prologue

"Will we meet again sometime?"

"I'm sure we will."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now go and don't look back."

* * *

Chihiro pushed a long silver spoon clockwise around her dark mug of cocoa; she wasn't particularly hungry, leaving a strawberry danish half-eaten on some pastel pink name-brand napkin, glaze shimmering incandescently under the fluorescent lighting. Her mother didn't bother to ask why she didn't finish it, probing her on various subjects from school to boys , shoes to acrylics- it was moments later that her father snatched the discarded pastry, chomping it to bits between yellowing teeth (he was a "recovering" smoker with lots of lapses), chasing the dulcet desert with a gulp of tepid beer.  
Her mother was in the midst of raving about their next 'mother-daughter' spa trip, words pouring forth like a gushing stream, when she realized Chihiro wasn't listening (as per usual) and went back to patting her husband's arm and sipping a slushy cocktail hued with the colors of the setting sun.  
Chihiro was far too busy watching clouds puff past, chin in hand, wisps of hair from her low bun draping against the bare nape of her neck. IHOP wasn't in her list of top-ten-eateries, and by the time her cocoa had gone cold she was already enraptured in another world completely; a swirling puff of white swam in the night-air overhead and Chihiro thought it looked like a river, like a dragon- like the umpteenth time the young girl relived the memories that swarmed her mind and deemed her medically unstable. Visions of parent-turned-pigs and faceless monsters, a tall bathhouse with billowing smoke stacks and sweet dumplings eaten beside blushing pink hydrangeas. It had taken Chihiro years to admit what she had gone through, years that she spent with thousands of questions bubbling and broiling beneath her tawny skin, and when she finally did decide to speak out she was met with a thousand more inquiries.

She lived in a hospital room in the Psych. ward for two months, poked with needles and interrogated on a daily basis, fed mediocre hospital food and given dedicated hours of the day to leave her room; her mother and father visited every other week. The only upside to the entire experience was her roommate, a Chinese girl with intermediate Japanese speaking skills and a thick mandarin accent who insisted on being called Shānyào (山藥*), which roughly translated into yam. Chihiro didn't understand why Shānyào requested she call her that until she really dissected that day a few months later- she had been eating sweet, sautéed yams. Chihiro did eventually ask Shānyào (nicknamed Shan-Shan, or Shan-Chan) why she chose _yam_, of all things, but she refused to answer; the late-night nurse told her through hushed whispers that it was because Shānyào didn't have a name, born illegitimately on the boat between Taizhou and Kagoshima. Shānyào was a good roommate, always polite and thoughtful, quick to offer help with anything she could manage; when Chihiro explained her experience to her, Shānyào said the one thing that helped Chihiro get through the questions and the prodding and the starchy hospital sheets: _I believe you._ Because, even if others called her crazy, that meant there was one person who had faith in her. That's all she ever needed.

In the distance, the cloud named Haku drifted behind a multi-floor building with thousands of shimmering window panes, plotted on a parking lot that swallowed up and spat out cars faster than she could count; As she watched, Chihiro's mind churned, eyes fluttering over the landscape like a pair of house flies. That building was familiar- she'd definitely seen it before. "Chichi**," she turned towards her father, smiling sheepishly. "I've seen that building before. Where are we?"

Her father grunted, gulped another bout of beer and wiped his greasy mouth with the back of his hand. "That one over there?" he asked, pointing a thick finger at the thee joined buildings, grimy fingernail staring directly at the aluminum tower in the center. She nodded and he did too, her mother's hands wrapping around his thick shoulders.

"Sweety," she began, lips pressed into a hard line, wavy brown hair bobbing over her scalp lazily. "That's the hospital we brought you to when you nearly drowned in the Kohaku Nushi river; you remember it?" she sipped her frosty drink, Chihiro's father beginning to babble about children's memories and how traumatizing things are often engraved in a brain's archive, hidden beneath the jibble-jabble of daily life. Chihiro simply nodded in agreement and turned back to stare at the hospital, fingers drumming over her chin, a faint smile ghosting over her thin lips. This meant the river was close-by- and if the river was close-by, so would Haku.

She'd find a way to see him. Tomorrow, the day after, a week later; Chihiro would finally find her Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi***.

* * *

*山藥 = 山芋 = yam.

**Chichi = 父 = father

***Nigihayami Kohaku Nushi = god of the amber river~

cover; pixiv id=2241258

A/N: It feels so good to be back ;^; I'll update it as soon as I can. /loves you all.


	2. Olive Green Eyes

"Haku, listen. I just remembered something from a long time ago, I think it may help you. Once, when I was little, I dropped my shoe into a river. When I tried to get it back I fell in. I thought I'd drown but the water carried me to shore. It finally came back to me. The river's name was the Kohaku river. I think that was you, and your real name is Kohaku river. "

"You did it, Chihiro! I remember! I was the spirit of the Kohaku river. "

"A river spirit? "

"My name is the Kohaku river."

"_They filled in that river, its all apartments now."_

"That must be why I can't find my way home, Chihiro, I remember you falling into the river, and I remember your little pink shoe."

"So, you're the one who carried me back to shallow water, you saved me... I knew you were good!"

Chihiro pushed open a slatted closet door and peered at the polished wood flooring that shimmered underneath dozens of mildly used cashmere and polyester sweaters, skirts, blouses and dresses. In a neat row sat several pairs of shoes, ranging from jeweled heels to scruffy sneakers, and in the very corner a dusty shoe box with worn corners and fading labels lay alone. She considered peeking inside, trying on the soft yellow sneakers, cramming her toes into the itty-bitty tips of the shoes just to see if they'll fit but she knew they wouldn't.

She keeps them inside their original box along with the same coral shorts and once overly large cotton t-shirt that she'd worn on that very day, the slip of paper buried between the folds of clothes that originated from the long-gone faded bouquet of flowers her friend had bought her when they'd moved several towns over. (it had made all the difference. Now, to anyone else, it was just a piece of paper with dog-eared edges and felt-tip pen writing). All reminders of her journey; all reminders of Haku- of Kohaku.

But it isn't the time to wear children's clothes, snug with nostalgia around her jutting hips and slender thighs, a gift that came with puberty. She came to her closet to grab a pair of sneakers so she'd be able to leave the house; today would be the day she'd find the Kohaku river. Grabbing a pair of baby-blue converse, Chihiro stepped away from the closet and slumped down onto her bed, fitting them over her size-9 feet. Done. Rising, the girl sauntered over to a small table with piles of books and a small makeup bag with the bare minimum inside of it, checking her reflection; She dabbed a bit of smooth chapstick over her lips and piled her hair atop her head, holding it in place with a slightly stretched-out multi-colored elastic that she'd gotten so many years ago. Physically, materially, Chihiro was ready; emotionally, she wasn't sure. What would happen? Would she find Haku? The thought made her heart sink into the depths of her stomach, swirling and churning with anxiety. What if she couldn't find what she was looking for? (whatever that was). She pushed the thought out of her mind as soon as it had come, refusing to believe that she'd find disappointment in a place that love lived. Whatever she'd find, she'd find Kohaku- she'd find his spirit.

"Haha*, are you ready?" the teenager called, cupping her mouth to amplify the sound. She stood underneath her door frame, one foot supporting her weight as she leaned forwards from her room so that her head would float further into the hall. Chihiro's mother answered with a muffled yes, near the stair case wrapped in colorful scarfs and three-inch heels that looked like she ripped them straight from the eighties, outfit complete with high-waist jeans and gaudy necklaces that clinked against each other as they rolled across her plastic breasts, reflecting the mid-day sun. "You know, you're probably going to be in the car the whole time;" Chihiro began her descent down the staircase, cringing at the creaks that sang out from every step. "you didn't have to dress up."

She simply shrugs and re-applies her rose-tinted lipstick while watching herself in the mirror beside the door.

"You never know who you'll run into," and when the smudgy stick of pink disappeared back into it's tube, sharp nails encasing the golden metal as it turned, her mother was as silent as stone; it was their secret promise, in a way- when Chihiro wanted to do something, her mother wouldn't badger her about it, as long as she was close-by and her daughter was safe.

The car ride was short, but for Chihiro it was agonizingly long. Every bump jostled her ribcage, lungs battering against her hollow bones, heart leaping into her throat, stomach sunken against her spine. Her eyes, soft brown eyes filled with flecks of gold and burning embers, swam around her head like tadpoles in a shallow pond, left and right, up and down, searching for something to hold onto. Something she remembered.

All that met her gaze were cold cement towers and unsmiling mothers, pushing baby-carriages that held weeping infants and teething twins.

She'd ask meekly "Are we there yet? Are we close by?" and her mother would spit out another generic reply like a record player. (A few more minutes, almost there, just around the corner.) Chihiro ran her nails along the tacky car-door handle and swallowed warm spit, threads sticking from the roof of her mouth to the back of her tongue; absently she popped another mint between her lips and continued watching the slight shift in scenery, from gray buildings to brick, shrubbery to the occasional cluster of trees; they were close, but it felt like a millennium to Chihiro, the seconds, and minutes, and hours all melding into one bloc of terse time that was unbreathable. She rolled down the window and graciously gulped the static highway breeze, bangs smashed against her forehead by the force of the choppy wind jumping through the gap in the window.

She saw the cloud named Kohaku and couldn't bring herself to wave.

"We're here, honey." Her mother said, pushing her ancient Gucci glasses up the delicate bridge of her nose. Chihiro didn't hear her, gaping at the pile of apartments before her, cynical and unwelcoming. "Chihiro, we're here."

"H-huh?" She turned, raking her fingers through her bangs to fix them as her gaze shifted towards her mother. "But you must've taken a wrong turn; these are just-" she blinked, jaw dropping ever so slightly. How could she have forgotten? Of course. She even said it herself, all those years ago. "apartments."

"They filled in the river years ago; don't you remember? I suppose not, you were still very young and your mind was very sensitive." She leans back into the gray leather seats, unlocking the car with a brush of her fingertips. It was Chihiro's queue to get out of the car and walk around; it was what she asked for, after all.

Chihiro slipped out of the automobile, head turning in all different directions as she tried to get a sense of direction and meaning; what was she going to do now? Find Kohaku, supposedly, but that would seem a bit harder than she first imagined.

Her first few steps were unsure, sneakers sliding across pavement uneasily. After several more she gained a new resolution and her footing gained friction and purpose, head held high; Chihiro would find something. She decided that she would not leave empty handed, so to speak.

With a deep breath, the girl walked towards one of the apartment buildings, focused on the list of last names (perhaps she'd read Nigihayami on a water-stained slip of cardboard). She walked to the next complex without the name she was looking for, even more determined. She came out with the same outcome. (There was always the next apartment)

Twenty-four minutes later and a hard gust of wind that smashed against her torso like a swift kick to the chest, Chihiro was bleary eyed and hard lipped, staring at the last apartment on the lot with no sign of Kohaku; She sat back on the cool cement steps and watched how her fingers curled and unfurled, how the lines of her palms stretched apart and squashed together, grown so much since the incident in the river. In the background of her vision where pavement grew blurry against the edges of her digits, she thinks she sees a small crack and wonders if this is where the river was that swept her away.

"Kohaku," the word rolls off of her tongue, white-washed in melancholy and she puts her palms on her lap, afraid of the bleak and hazy scenery around her. "Kohaku, if only you were here. If only I could say hello..or goodbye..one last time. Would it be so selfish to ask?" Chihiro has to bite the insides of her lips to keep the tears from spilling over her red-rimmed eyes, rubbing them away with the coarse fabric covering her bicep. She can't cry; she's too grown up to cry. The girl swallows her emotions and pushes herself up off of a strangers front steps, knowing that they don't really belong to them- nor the contractor or the manager or the owner of the entire lot. This is Kohaku's home, unceremoniously divided into cemetery-plots where families move to disintegrate into bare-bones and milk formula, barely making ends meet. This is where Kohaku had lived for hundreds upon thousands, even thousands upon millions of years; where he was born and raised, where he watched furry creatures take their first and last steps. And he met his demise with a scratch of a pen across a fifty-yen clipboard bought at a brand-name-store. They swallowed him whole, this boy and spirit who saved her life, and coughed him back out in asphalt and smoke-stacks and monthly rental payments.

She brushed off her knees when she stood on lamb-legs, unwillingly stepping forward onto the smooth black tar that was once an ebullient river; a boy with olive-green eyes with the ability to bend anything to his will.

"Chihiro," her name sounded like the wind against blades of crabgrass and the drip-drop of water splashing on a lily pad. "Of course it wouldn't be selfish. You deserve anything you wish for."

She paused, seventeen steps from her seat and five from the corner where she can start to visualize her car; her heart began to pound harder, blood coursing through her slender blue veins with a fierce intensity. Chihiro's stomach rose up against her lungs, chest tight and high in the air as she holds her breath hostage. Did she hear correctly? Quickly, as if she'd miss it if she blinked, she whipped her head around, body following suit, finding an olive-eyed boy in blue pants and lacquered geta**. (It's as if her heart breaks all over again.)

"I told you, Chihiro; don't look back."

*haha = 母 = mother.

*geta = Japanese sandals with two rectangular blocks underneath; google search it!

A/N: WOOH! Let's hope I can get the third one up at the same rate!


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